The Ballad of the Sheriff
by writer writing
Summary: Kid Cole, needing a rest from traveling, takes a long stint as a sheriff. Real laws of the Old West serve to create comic hijinks in a town full of townspeople with little regard for the law. Sister Ruth and Kid experience the highs and lows of family life and sheriffing. AU. 1849. Twentieth in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Kid Cole grumbled. Colorado Springs looked like an idyllic, little town with a white steeple church and a bridge, relatively friendly people, and surrounding mountain scenery that could take a man's breath away in the good kind of way. It was perfect town to find the rest and quiet that his doctor had recommended.

However, looks could be deceiving. The "friendly" townspeople wanted to hang a boy for being hungry. It was amazing how quickly good people could become an angry lynch mob.

The town crusader, for there were no other words to describe Michaela Quinn, had asked him to become their sheriff. He had turned her down, but he watched the sorry applicants try to hit the row of cans and bottles and fail. He doubted they could have hit the broadside of a barn and nary a one of them was fit for the office in brains or experience.

He couldn't stand watching the spectacle for a moment longer. He marched up, shot the tin can into the air, and put another bullet through it once more while it was still suspended, announcing his intention to take the job.

Apparently, the only way to have peace was to create it.

_June 1849_

"Remind me again why I took this job?" Kid Cole asked of his wife, while looking down at the six-pronged silver star pinned to his chest. It had the word "sheriff " engraved on it along with the slightest, rather unnecessary embellishments intended to draw the eye to it.

Sister Ruth smiled patiently as she set down the lunch she'd brought him. "Because the doctor ordered you to rest, to take a break from the constant travel for at least a year."

He snorted. "This is not rest."

The town he'd found a job in was ironically enough called Buzzard's Dune. The way the crime rate was here, mostly petty crimes, he had half a mind to leave it for the buzzards.

They watched through the window as a man in his thirties stumbled down the street, the way only a drunk man could, caterwauling and making a general nuisance of himself. Oliver was a repeat offender. He was never able to pay the fine, so he spent ten days in jail instead every time. Sometimes that felt more like a punishment for him rather than the offender.

"That man needs the Lord," she said.

"What he needs is coffee and a dunking in the river and maybe a good, swift kick in the rear. Was I ever that annoying when I was a drunk?"

It was her turn to snort. "No, honey. You were much worse."

He didn't know whether she was serious or joking, but she chuckled and went up on tippy-toes to kiss his cheek and soothe his ruffled feathers. "The kids and I will be waiting for you at home."

The bright spot in his day when he could spend time with his real children and not these adult children. "See you, baby."

He withdrew his gun after she left, not because Oliver was violent, he wasn't sober or drunk, but because when he saw Kid with a gun out, he knew it was time to go into the jail cell. On some lucky days, Oliver came and turned himself in without the need for even that much.

No doubt about it, Kid couldn't wait for the day he was well enough to start traveling again.


	2. Chapter 2

People dived out of the way as Mrs. Simmons' driving team came up on the sidewalk. She almost ran into a post on the sidewalk before the horses plunged back into the street.

Kid jumped on his horse and rode toward the out-of-control vehicle. He reached out with one hand and wrestled the reins from her. A sharp jerk brought the horses to a stop without injury.

He sighed with relief. When he'd taken the job, he didn't realize this would be part of the job description.

"Thank you, Sheriff. You naughty, naughty boys. Do you hear the trouble you've caused? You won't be getting any carrots or sugar lumps from me for a while."

"It's not the first time this has happened, Mrs. Simmons."

"No, siree, it's not," she said continuing to chastise the horses.

He rolled his eyes. It was hard to be mad at the woman; she was just that old and sweet, but she was putting people's lives and health at risk by her terrible driving. A woman who was half blind and didn't have the physical strength to rein in the horse should not be driving, and he'd told her that repeatedly.

"It's also against the law for your horses to be on the sidewalk. It comes with a five dollar fine or five to ten days in jail."

"If you have to take them, I understand."

"I don't think you do, ma'am. It's you I'm going to have to lock up like I told you the last time."

She looked stunned like a deer caught under the barrel of a gun.

"I really am sorry I have to do this," he said, getting down from his horse and offering her a hand to help her down from the wagon.

"You're arresting me?"

"Well, I'm not going to handcuff you. I'm just taking you to my office where you can pay your fine or-"

At this point, her eyes were watery. She couldn't pay the fine. Goodness, he hated this job, but he'd promised to uphold the law. "Five days is nothing. You get regular meals, and I'll ensure your privacy. You'll even be out in time for church this Sunday. I hope it'll encourage you to find someone who can drive you into town."

She have a little hiccup. "It's not your fault. You're just doing your job. I'll go along quietly." There was another little hiccup.

He took off his hat to run his fingers through his hair in frustration and followed after her.

He made sure the jail cell was as comfortable as a jail cell could be before he locked her in there. Then he went outside to take care of the horses.

Ruth came walking toward him. Any other time he'd be happy to see his wife, but this was lousy timing.

"Mercy needs some new dress material. That girl outgrows dresses faster than I can sew them. Some of the town kids invited them to join their game of whip."

"And you left them alone. Isaiah included?" He wasn't really concerned for their well-being or even about Isaiah's outbursts. He was just hoping to distract her.

"Mercy's thirteen. She can handle it. Sometimes she's better with Isaiah than I am. Is that Mrs. Simmons' wagon?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered as he started unharnessing the horses.

"Where's Mrs. Simmons?"

There was a heartbeat of hesitation. "Inside."

There was a loud, audible gasp. "You're going to put that sweet, old lady in jail?"

"Sweet old lady, my eye. You should have seen her. She tried to run over half the town."

She chewed her lip in thought before suggesting, "What if she just served her time at our house?"

Kid shook his head. It was hard being a sheriff when your wife had love and sympathy for your prisoners. But it's not like she was inviting a violent person into their home, and it would keep Mrs. Simmons off the street while she served her five days. "Fine with me, I guess. Have it your way." Secretly he was a little relieved by the idea.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him squarely on the lips.

He couldn't help the smile that crept through while he was kissing her. When she released him, he said teasingly, "I guess I should bring more criminals by the house to serve their sentence. Maybe I'll bring Oliver next time."

She laughed. "Don't you dare."


	3. Chapter 3

Kid walked into the saloon. It had been a slow day, and it was his job to make sure the citizens were abiding by the law, and inside a saloon, they usually weren't.

"Sheriff, what a pleasant surprise, can I offer you a drink?" the saloon keeper said as if he were glad to see him, which they both knew he wasn't.

"No. thank you. I find I work better sober."

"I think you earn it, but suit yourself."

His eyes alighted on none other than the preacher's son involved in a game of cards. He was only sixteen. The whelp had no business gambling or even being in here for that matter.

He came up behind him rather quietly. "If I were you, I'd hang onto the ten and the jack, and discard the rest."

"Thank you." It then occurred to the teen that his hand had just been spoiled. "Hey, who do you think you are?" His eyes stopped short at the badge.

"The end to your fun, Jack. Come on. I'll see that you get home safely."

He didn't move. "Does Sister Ruth know you're in here?" he asked with a smirk.

He grabbed the smart-aleck boy by the back of his shirt, lifting him out of his seat. "Of course, she does. I don't keep secrets from my wife. Do your parents know where you are?"

The fact that his smirk disappeared proved that they didn't.

He drug him past the dancing couples. The girls probably doubled as prostitutes, but he hadn't been able to prove it yet.

The boy still had the nerve to protest and try to scramble out of his grip. "What right do you have to take me out of there? You're not my father!"

"I know that. If you were my boy, I'd be tanning your hide right now, but you broke the law, son."

He stopped scrambling. "What law?"

"The one that says if you're under the age of eighteen and playing cards in a saloon, you get ten days lockup. And for being underage and in a dance house, that's another ten days. You could be behind bars for nearly a month. How's them apples suit you?"

Knowing defeat when he saw it, he came along compliantly the rest of the way.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not an unreasonable man. Ignorance of the law doesn't excuse you from the penalties, but I'm willing to turn you over to your parents just this once, and let them handle you. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

The preacher and his wife answered the door in their nightclothes and their surprise showed that they hadn't even realized he'd been out of the house.

"I found your boy playing cards at the dance hall."

The preacher's brows knit together to look like one very fuzzy caterpillar, and his wife covered her mouth with her hand. The former grabbed Jack by the wrist and jerked him inside.

"Did anyone see him?" Pastor Jeffries asked.

It wasn't the first question Kid expected to come out of his mouth. He would have thought he might ask if he was going to get time or even ask his son what he was thinking.

"Well, yes. Everyone at the saloon saw him."

"So no one from church then. Good. That's a relief." Did Pastor Jeffries really think none of his parishioners frequented that establishment when his own son was caught there? "Though I wish you had gotten me to come get him instead of parading him home."

"Do you understand he might have been arrested?"

"Oh, well, thank the good Lord he wasn't. You know church gossip and all that."

Did he think he actually cared about church gossip? "Next time I can't give you both this courtesy. You understand that, don't you?"

"Of course, Sheriff. Good night," he said barely seeming to hear him as he shut the door.

He actually felt a twinge of sympathy for Jack. His behavior was probably a cry of attention for his parents to notice him over the concerns of the church.

sss

His children were already in bed by the time he got home. Ruth had waited up for him though. She was sitting up and reading in bed.

He shut the bedroom door and started to undress. He pulled off his vest with the badge and threw it in the floor in disdain.

"You look like you had a hard day," she said, picking up on it and his frown lines.

He proceeded to tell her the whole sordid story. "And do you think they were grateful?"

"No?" she ventured as a result of his tone.

"No! They were more worried that we'd been seen together. Why do I even bother?"

He was so frustrated he couldn't even get the buttons of his shirt undone, and it set him to coughing a bit.

A tender smile, she stood up to help him. With her slender fingers popping the buttons open, his breathing settled to slower, deeper breaths that made the coughs disappear. "You bother because you're a good man, and I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but you are making a difference in these people' lives and making the community a better place to live."

He humphed.

"It's true. Mrs. Simmons can't stop singing your praises. I don't think you have to worry about her doing any driving in the future if only to please you."

"She's only grateful that you convinced me to bring her here."

"Well, speaking of Mrs. Simmons," she said, rubbing the collar of his shirt between her fingers. "Have you noticed she ain't here anymore and that you don't have to share a bed with the boys' now to give her a comfortable place to sleep?"

"I had noticed that, yes," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "and I intend to make the most of it."


	4. Chapter 4

Kid sighed. Two of the people in his jurisdiction were in a property dispute. He shoved the papers his off the desk in frustration. The map was not detailed enough to make it clear-cut. He would have to find a surveyor. He was tired of having to ride out because Mr. Smith had trespassed on Mr. Allen's property apparently or vice versa.

Ruth had walked in on his mini temper tantrum. "You know what you need?"

"A new job?" he said dryly.

She chuckled appropriately. "A day off. Why don't we take the kids fishing tomorrow?"

The thought definitely held appeal. "You know what? That sounds amazing."

sss

Mercy held out a long, wriggly worm. "I can't do it. I can't hook another living creature."

Kid was happy to rescue his daughter. "It only hurts for a little while," he sang to the worm as he hooked it.

"Daddy, you're terrible," she said with a roll of her eyes as she took the pole, but he saw the smile she tried to hide. She went to try her luck a little further down the stream. Her brothers followed her, figuring their wise, older sister knew the best spot to fish. She found a good shady spot, but as noisy as Isaiah and Gideon were and the way they impatiently moved their poles around hoping to bait the fish into biting, he didn't think she was going to have much luck.

"And yet she doesn't mind dunking it in the water and waiting for a fish to come along and finish him off by eating it?" Kid said. "That can't be too pleasant for the worm either."

"Stop," she said with a laugh, "before she hears you and you make it so that she doesn't go fishing ever again."

A rich bubble of laughter came up from his throat, proving her plans to give him a carefree day were working. "Yes, ma'am."

He looked in the murky water for awhile, checking for signs of any unsuspecting fish swimming along. When he got tired of that, he looked over at his children. Mercy was still sitting patiently. The boys had abandoned their poles and were wrestling each other on the ground and yelling at each other.

"Even for all that, they don't fight half so much as grown men fighting over their property line."

"Now none of that. Remember, this is a day for having fun. We're not even going to talk about it."

"Should I go over and break it up?"

"They won't hurt each other. It's one fight you don't have to get involved in. Just let them duke it out.

"If you say so, boss, but it don't seem like it makes us good parents," he teased as he leaned back against the tree. It made poor shade as the curved tree's branches hung out over the water but a good backrest.

Ruth proved to be right though. Gideon grew tired of picking at Isaiah, and Isaiah took the opportunity to find a midway spot between his parents and siblings where he could be by himself.

He looked over to see if she was going to gloat. Her cheeks were starting to look a little sun-kissed. He took his hat off and placed it on top of her head over her tiny hat that was more fashion statement than protection from the sun. "You need a more practical hat."

"Why? When I can just steal yours?" she asked with a chuckle. He put his free arm around her. Who would have ever thought they would end up a perfect couple with his propensity for brooding and her cheerful nature, but he didn't question it; he just thanked God for it.

"You do look prettier in it than me, I'll admit."

He felt the familiar tug on his pole. "I've got a big one," he said, sitting straighter. He gave his rod a sharp jerk upward, hoping to firmly lodge the hook in its mouth. The fish was just too heavy though, and the line snapped.

"Daggummit, it got away," he grumbled.

"Watch your language. At least, you never let a man get away. Here, you can take my pole."

He took it gladly. He wanted his revenge on that fish, and a fish that big had to be hungry for more.

As he waited for another bite, they watched a man come out of the woods. He didn't even look their way. He was a man on a mission.

"He's carrying a concealed weapon," Kid said in a low voice.

"Really? How can you tell?"

"Easy. You can see the outline of a pistol in his pants pocket."

"Oh, so you can. You have better eyes than me. He's heading toward town."

"I know it." He would have liked to ignore it, but his conscience wouldn't let him. Sometimes he thought his wife and his conscience were the same thing, but she wasn't nagging him. "I guess I better follow him."

She couldn't have looked prouder. "You might be saving someone's life. Buzzard's Dune doesn't know how lucky they got when you took the job as sheriff."

Her words were like cool water to his parched soul. It was rewarding to think he might be saving someone's life and not just settling petty squabbles.


	5. Chapter 5

Kid caught up with the man, and as soon as he stepped into town, he arrested him for carrying a concealed weapon. The man had enough to pay the fine and was on his merry way, this time with the gun plainly on his hip for all to see. He wouldn't try it again anytime soon, and at least if he was out to shoot someone, they had a fighting chance now. Perhaps, it wasn't such a bad job after all.

But his mood about sheriffing shifted again when Mr. Allen came by demanding Mr. Smith be arrested for trespassing. He laid it out for the man. "I don't care who owns the land by the river. What's more I don't know who owns the land by the river. When the surveyor I hired has told me the boundaries then I'll worry about trespassing. For all I know, he is on his land."

Mr. Allen left in a huff.

Kid was glad to see the surveyor's results on his desk Monday. He laughed because the property line ran right through the middle of the river. "Well, that should end that feud quite nicely."

"One can only hope," the surveyor said. "They were out there glaring at each other all the while I was working."

Soon after the surveyor left, Ruth came by because he'd forgotten his lunch. He set it down before he picked her up and whirled her around until they were too dizzy and he was too breathless to continue, he fell down in the chair with her in his lap. "What was that for?"

"I got some very good news. No more having to ride out to Mr. Allen and Mr. Smith's properties to settle land disputes at all hours of the night."

"That's wonderful. I have some good news myself," she began, but the door opened and a man and woman came in, both of the strangers looking angry.

Ruth jumped up in embarrassment as did Kid. Not that it would have gone further in a public setting, but it was just a more intimate position than they would normally have done in front of an audience.

"Don't be embarrassed,''' the man said. "It's nice to see a man and wife enjoying themselves."

"Uh, well, thank you." To Kid, she said, "I'll see you at home," She was trying to excuse herself from the situation, but the man didn't wait to air his grievances.

"She refuses to lay with me!"

That froze Ruth in her tracks mostly because it was so shocking.

"I admit it," his wife retorted, folding her arms. "He never takes a bath. That should be a crime."

"Uh, well, ma'am, it ain't." Kid looked so uncomfortable that Ruth didn't have the heart to leave him to face this alone.

"No, it ain't," said the man triumphantly. "But not giving your husband his due is."

Ruth was feeling like she was about to sink into the floor her own self, and it wasn't even her personal situation. It may have been the law, but she'd never met a man with enough gumption to actually have his wife arrested for something like that. Until now.

"Well, uh, can't you just clean up and make her happy?" He cleared his throat. "It sounds like she is willing if you make an effort."

"No, I can't. She just wants me to catch my death of cold."

Ruth had to hide a guffaw by a fake coughing fit. The July day was nearly reaching a hundred degrees. Hardly arctic weather.

"No, I'd just like to get within a few inches of you without gagging. That's not unreasonable, is it? " She looked at Ruth. "I bet your husband doesn't stink to high heaven and then expect you to sleep with him."

"No, I don't reckon he does, but my guess is your problems go deeper than the stench."

"You bet it does. Nothing I do is good enough for that woman."

"That woman? Do you hear what he calls me?"

" Listen, Mr and Mrs..." Kid began. It was hard to believe they still didn't know their names after knowing just about every other intimate detail about the couple.

"Bussinger," the man filled in for them.

"Why don't we sit down and see if we can talk this out?" Kid pulled chairs out for them, and they reluctantly sat down, arms folded.

"Why did you first fall in love with Mr. Bussinger?" he began, getting to the heart of the subject.

"The first time I saw her. She was walking along with her pigtails swinging, looking as cute as a button."

Mrs. Bussinger rolled her eyes, but Ruth thought she saw a flicker of a smile.

"When did you decide you loved Mr. Bussinger?" Kid asked.

"I guess when we were sixteen, and he drove all the way out to my parents' house in his buggy to make sure I wouldn't have to trudge through the snow to church. He never does nice things for me anymore."

"What do you mean I never do nice things? I put food on the table, don't I?

"That's not the same. You won't even make an effort with a bath. One thing I ask you to do."

"Maybe if you acted a little more affectionately, I'd make a little more effort."

"Here's the bottom line, do you really think arresting her is going to fix anything?" Kid asked.

Mr. Bussinger started to speak than just shook his head.

"Here's what I think might help," Kid said, "Write each other a letter, telling everything you like about the other and why you love them. It doesn't have to be poetic just sincere."

"We can't read or write," Mr. Bussinger said.

"Well, tell each other then. Make it a daily habit. And for goodness sake, take a bath."

"Okay. We'll try, Sheriff. I can always come back if I need to."

"See what a charmer he is? You're off to a real great start, aren't you?"

Their argument carried even after they had went out the door and down the sidewalk, but at least they were talking and not trying to imprison each other.

"I'm not a sheriff. I'm a minister," Kid grumbled.

"Maybe, but you're a good one," Ruth said. "I'm glad you handled it and not me. I think I wouldn't have been half as good because I'd have been too busy blushing, and I think you definitely helped them."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I know they had one thing right. There's nothing wrong with our lovemaking. "

She chuckled as she draped her arms over his shoulders. "Nope. In fact, you're about to be a father again."


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing could bring down Kid's mood. He was going to be a father again. What an unexpected blessing. Even when his life seemed to take a turn for the worse like his health forcing him to stop traveling for awhile, God managed to show him that there was life yet to live.

"How?" he had stuttered.

She'd laughed at him. "If you haven't figured it out after four kids, I don't think you ever will."

He was on his way home, eager to make sure she was taking it easy, which didn't seem to be in Ruth's vocabulary, when he happened to run into another of his repeat offenders.

Jefferson, despite his patriotic-sounding name, had no love for his nation or work ethic. He spent his time ranting and raving to whoever would listen and to those who wouldn't. He seemed happier living in the streets than in a house but because the evening was rather chilly, he had made a fire on the street to warm his hands by.

"You can't build a fire on the street," Kid said to him firmly.

"Not even if it's cold?" he asked, his voice going thin, hoping to illicit sympathy.

"Not even if it's cold."

"That's a dumb law."

"Not really when you consider it could easily burn down the whole town. All this wood would go up faster than a hot knife through butter."

"Well, I can put it out as easily as I made it," he said, preparing to do so without the aid of a bucket or water for that matter.

"Also illegal," he said quickly before the man added urinating on the street and indecent exposure to his list of crimes.

"Is anything legal around here?" Jefferson grumbled.

"If you exercised a little common sense, you could figure out what's legal and what's not."

"It's not common sense as much as it is picking on people who don't have their own homes to build fires and relieve themselves."

"You could go out into the woods and do them both. Or better yet, find some work."

Jefferson mumbled under his breath as Kid went for a bucket of water from the town pump. He dumped the water on the small fire and it fizzled out quickly.

"I could have done it faster."

"I'm sure you could have. Do me a favor, and don't get into any more trouble."

"Aye, aye, Captain," he said, mock-saluting as Kid walked towards his horse.

He shouldn't have looked back. Ruth would have had a piping hot meal ready, and afterwards, they could have cuddled and watched the children play, but he did, and there was Jefferson building another fire literally as soon as his back was turned.

"You are a pain in the neck. You know that?"

"Funny. That's what my dear, departed mother used to say," he said, theatrically taking his hat off and holding it over his heart. He could have easily made a living as an actor, especially since Kid knew for a fact that his mother was still alive somewhere back East.

"You know I'm going to have to arrest you now, don't you?"

"Oh, well, how nice of you to give me a running start." And he took off like a jackrabbit.

He sighed before taking off into a run himself, but he didn't get but a few strides before he doubled over into a coughing fit. When he stood straight again, completely out of breath, Jefferson was staring him in the face.

"Sorry, Sheriff, that wasn't very sporting of me."

It was a sad day when criminals turned themselves in willingly. "Ah, go, but behave yourself. You so much as put a toe over the line, I'll not only arrest you, I'll bring you up on every charge in the book." And Jefferson was often guilty of most of them.

He grinned and saluted again. "You can count on me."

Kid just shook his head, knowing he didn't know the meaning of the word, "behave", but maybe he would restrict his activities, at least for tonight, to his usual ramblings about the state of America's political affairs and its downfall.


	7. Chapter 7

"I hate to bother you when you look so peaceful-like," Ruth began.

Kid grinned, eyes still shut. "But you're going to do it anyway."

The bed moved as she propped herself up on her elbow. "You know how I joined the lady's aide society?

He opened his eyes and teased, "I seem to recall that, yes." He'd only had to fix dinner and keep the boys from strangling each other yesterday because of the meeting.

"I know we raised a goodly amount during the last fundraiser, and yet, we can't afford enough material to clothe twelve orphans. Something's not right."

"You talk to the lady in charge of the funds?"

"I wouldn't have bothered you with it if I hadn't."

"And?"

"She avoided the subject at first, but when I pressed her on it, she said the charity ball had taken up more of the funds than planned, and we only had enough money to purchase enough fabric for six orphans."

"You think she's embezzling funds?"

"I don't want to think it, but what else can I think? I know we raised more money than that, and the ball is mostly made up of donations of food and decorations and such. There's not a lot of expense."

"And you want me to investigate?"

"I knew I could count on you, honey. You're the best sheriff this town's ever seen."

"Why do I feel like you're just buttering me up to do your bidding?"

She laughed. "Because I am." She leaned over and kissed him.

"And the worst part is I don't even mind," he said playfully as he pulled her on top of him.

sss

"That's her in the lavender silk dress playing the fiddle. Mrs. Cranston," Ruth said, point to the small ensemble made up of only three women.

Kid studied her for a moment. She certainly didn't look like a criminal, but did anyone? Sometimes the ones who looked the least like one were the ones you had to watch the closest.

He danced with Ruth until the musicians went on break. He caught the lady at the punch bowl.

"That was some fine playing. I play the guitar myself."

"Thank you," she said, already wary. She probably mistook him for flirting over sheriffing business though.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He noted the way she looked toward the exit likely trying to measure whether she could make a run for it.

"Only a minute. I just have a question for you."

Her eyes darted again. This time, she eyed the nearby people.

"Fine, but over there," she said gesturing toward the corner with a subtle movement of her head. "And only one. I have to rest up for the next set."

"Deal."

She folded her arms defensively. With one question to his name, he had to make it good. "Why did you take the money that belonged to the orphans?"

She responded as he hoped to his very direct accusation with panic. "I don't know what your wife has been telling you, but she obviously has no idea how the money is handled."

"I'd say all the ladies would be surprised to know how the funds are handled. I suppose then you wouldn't mind submitting the records you keep as evidence, so I can help get to bottom of what's going on."

The wild-eyed woman, who still had her violin, put her bow out as if it were a sword.

"Lady, you really don't want to add battery to your crime."

But apparently she did for she thrust the bow in his direction as if she were going to run him through.

He easily side-stepped it and snatched it away from her. She responded by crashing the wooden instrument across his back, which he should have seen coming. He wrestled that away as well, glad Mercy had opted to stay home with the boys. "Maybe some time behind bars will cool you down and refresh your memory on where the money might have gone."

"I don't have the money," she practically whined. "I spent it on this dress."

"That's too bad. Fortunately, I think this violin would cover some if not all of it."

She gasped. "Not my violin."

"Let me put it to you this way, you're not in a position to negotiate. You're going to have to get money from somewhere if you hope to have a chance at a reduced sentence."

"At least let me maintain some of my dignity and don't drag me out in handcuffs."

He could have pointed out she lost her dignity when she decided to steal from parentless children and attack him with her musical instrument, but he didn't and let it look like he might have been escorting her to her carriage.

Ruth came to the jail after the ball with two plates of leftovers, one for Kid and one for Mrs. Cranston.

Mrs. Cranston wasn't grateful. "I'm a widow, you know," she told them. "If I didn't look after myself, who was going to?"

Kid frowned. He didn't call silk dresses a necessity.

"God," Ruth answered simply with a sad smile. "The same as he looked after the orphans today."

She humphed from behind her cell, not trusting in religion, which was already pretty evident.

But Ruth didn't pay it any mind. She set down the plates on his desk and quoted, "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction."

Kid smiled. She had a glow and carriage about her in her plainer calico, which featured a navy blue floral print and bit of lace, that made it seem as if her dress were fit for a queen and put the silk dress to shame. It wasn't just the glow of pregnancy, but the woman herself and her deeply held faith.

He reflected on the verse. People got in their head what religion was and wasn't until it seemed a set of rules made to appear self-righteous. They misused the term until it was almost a dirty word. But religion as the Lord saw it was love and action. Religion that was true to His name saw to the needs of those who needed protection. He hoped in his small way he helped accomplish that.


	8. Chapter 8

Walking was becoming more cumbersome for Ruth as her pregnancy progressed, but if she didn't go out then her back tended to hurt more, so Kid was walking with her on their daily evening stroll.

Oliver was so drunk he hadn't been able to make it to the jail to lock himself up. Instead, he lay in the gutter unable to even pick himself up off the ground, blocking their way.

Most ladies would have walked around him, going so far as to walk on the other side of the street, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. "Is there anything I can do for you, brother?"

He squinted against the unwelcome fading light as he looked up for the source of the voice. Once he recognized her, he suddenly seemed ashamed. "Will you pray for me, Sister Ruth?"

"Of course, I already do, but I'll be happy to pray out loud with you." There on the sidewalk, she closed her eyes and bowed her head her head. She even took the man's hands in hers grubby though they were, not caring they were probably making a public spectacle of themselves. "Father, I pray for Brother Oliver and his drunkeness-"

"Don't tell Him I'm drunk!" he pleaded.

Her eyes snapped open in surprise. "I'm not telling Him anything He don't already know, but you know something, Oliver? He loves you anyway. It's good that you have a sense of shame because that means you want to change, but you can't go so low that He won't help you out of the hole you've dug for yourself."

"She knows what she's talking about," Kid added.

He nodded, unable to speak. He was overcome by the thought that the Lord knew all his dark sins and loved him anyway.

Ruth continued. "Let him see his need for You is stronger than his need for drink, and let him know that with Your help he can overcome his weaknesses. Amen."

"Amen," Oliver repeated. "It's nice to think I have a friend up there."

"You've got friends down here too," Ruth said. "Come on, let's get some coffee to help sober you up a little."

Kid helped him up, and they walked to the jail where Ruth readied a cup of coffee while Oliver cried tears of joy at all the kindness he'd been shown.

It didn't stop with the coffee either. Ruth borrowed scissors from one of her lady friends in town. Kid watched the man's greasy, overly long locks fall to the floor.

"You are something else. You turned my jail into a café first and now a barbershop." He wasn't really annoyed. In fact, he thought it amusing.

"Why shouldn't a jail be a place of reform?" she asked. "That's what it's supposed to be, ain't it? You do the time and then you walk away with a changed attitude."

"Unless a man gets sent to the gallows."

Oliver jumped at that thought, and Ruth nearly snipped his ear. "You hush, You're going to make me cut his ear off."

"Maybe I don't want to reform this much," Oliver said nervously.

"If you stay still and present company keeps quiet, nobody's going to get maimed."

She made quick work of the rest of his hair, and when she got done, Oliver didn't only feel like a new man, he looked like one too.

"You not going to shave him too?" Kid asked teasingly in a whisper while Oliver admired his new look in the reflection of the window. Ruth nudged him with her elbow to signal him to hush.

"You folks are so nice," Oliver said, turning around. "I won't touch another drop ever again. I swear it by heaven," he said as he looked upward.

"Don't swear it," she gently chastised. "Just take one day at a time. That's all you can do, and the Lord will help you if you ask Him. And we'll help you too."

Oliver decided to sleep off the rest of the alcohol at his sister's place. Kid escorted him there while Ruth waited for him to return at the jail.

"I love you," she said as soon as he came through the door.

"I love you too, but what prompted that declaration?" he asked, walking further into the room.

"You could have locked him up for being drunken and for being a vagrant, but you didn't."

"Why arrest a man up if he's already seen the error of his ways?"

"You are the best sheriff I ever did see," she said as he helped her to her feet, a difficult task for her these days.

"Well, I couldn't be half the sheriff I am if you weren't half the evangelist you are."

She grinned. "I'm glad you see your need for me."

He bent down to kiss her. "Like the air I breathe." And fortunately this rest as a sheriff was helping him breathe better because he wanted to be around for her and their children for a long time to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Isaiah was trying to shrug out of his jacket. Kid slid it right back up on his shoulders. "You can wear nice clothes for one day a week."

"It itches," he complained.

"I promise as soon as you get home you can take it off," he reassured.

"Lord knows your father does," Ruth said with a smile.

Isaiah squirmed all through the sermon, not hearing a word, as he did every Sunday. Ruth wondered if making him wear the jacket wasn't a mistake. She'd rather him be able to listen than complying with social rules and never learn.

As they walked home, they passed the saloon. The music was loud and the cavorting inside noisy as it was every week. She shook her head. "Those people are badly in need of the Lord."

"That's not the only thing they're in need of. They're in need of a swift quick in the-"

"Kid!" she said, afraid of what he was about to say in front of the children.

"I was only going to say pants."

They all had their eyes on the saloon as they passed, and a very drunk man came out with a worker that looked barely legal on his arm.

"I've turned a blind eye to it long enough," Kid said. "Not only are they ignoring the Sunday laws, but they're keeping a disorderly house and everyone in there visiting it is breaking the law."

"I didn't know it was illegal to be messy," Mercy said.

She was thankful she was still innocent enough not to know what he'd meant. Ruth sometimes wondered how much she picked up, considering the revivals were open to all, and in fact, she sought to bring the sinners that most of society deemed too unworthy to be saved.

"Do you think it wise to try to break up their carousing by yourself? Maybe you ought to deputize some men first," Ruth suggested.

He kissed her cheek. "Don't fret. It's not good for the baby. Wait with the children in the wagon, and I'll be along directly."

She sighed at his stubbornness, but she did as he asked before the couple in front of the saloon did anything that would require some uncomfortable explaining.

Kid none too gently pushed the drunkard and the young woman back into the confines of the building.

The owner greeted him at once. "Sheriff, I wish I could say it was nice to see you, but it's not. Aren't you supposed to be in church?"

"I could say the same of a lot of you gentlemen."

The owner's eyes widened with pretend innocence. "You mean it's the law now we have to be in church?"

"No, but it's the law that you can't have a business open on a Sunday." He looked at the women, who were dressed more modestly than some saloon girls he'd seen but not as modestly as the women he'd just seen at service. "And you can't have the sort of place you run open any day of the week."

"Is that so?" He looked cocky, and why wouldn't he? He had prominent patrons in his establishment. He'd likely been open for years. What was on the books and what was enforceable was all too often very different things. "You're going to arrest each and every one of us? Correct me if I'm wrong, Sheriff Cole, but your jail isn't big enough to hold all of us."

"No," he agreed. "I thought I'd start with you and your employees."

That caused panic in the saloon owner's eyes and for him to reach for his gun, but Kid's title of fastest draw in the West wasn't an honorary one. He shot his hand before he ever drew the gun up.

The customers scattered like pool balls on a billiard table with some exiting by the door and others through the nearest window.

He handcuffed the swearing owner who didn't seem quite so nonchalant now. "I guess we'll be stopping by to see the doc about getting that bullet out of your hand and then you'll have some time to think about your life choices."

The four women he employed were looking at the arrest with wide eyes, no doubt wondering about their future.

"Come along ladies. Despite my small jail there's room enough for you all in it." And if he knew Ruth, and he did, she would use this opportunity to try and witness and reform them.

He rather hoped she succeeded as he wasn't looking forward to keeping so many prisoners at once. It had to be a town record.


End file.
